


What We Leave Behind

by ashestodusters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Artificial Intelligence, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Character Study, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Kittens, Marriage, Multi, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Powerful Charles Xavier, Protective Tony, Set 5 years Post CACW, Therapy, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony tries to rebuild his life and is actually fairly successful, did I mention kittens?, happy tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashestodusters/pseuds/ashestodusters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been five years and Tony is still a piping hot mess.<br/>But he’s getting better at fixing himself.<br/>Five years spent digging through red tape, amending the Accords, gathering evidence against Ross, getting pardons, and finally he’s on the brink of putting the Avengers back together, joining the new teams with the old.<br/>Tomorrow is <em>that day</em> and he’s not sure how he feels about seeing a certain Captain again.<br/>Part of him wants to cling tight and never let go.<br/>Part of him is terrified of seeing the man that betrayed him, almost killed him, will trigger a huge setback in the whole fixing himself business.<br/>But this time when the nightmares come, he's not alone.<br/>And in the morning, when faced with <em>that day</em> his family makes sure to remind him of that.</p><p>A different view of what might have happened Post CACW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me?  
> Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?  
> Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me?  
> Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?  
> Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?  
> Pointing fingers cause you'll never take the blame like me?
> 
> And all the people say,
> 
> "You can't wake up, this is not a dream,  
> You're part of a machine, you are not a human being,  
> With your face all made up, living on a screen,  
> Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline."
> 
> Oh, oh, oh, oh,  
> I think there's a flaw in my code,  
> Oh, oh, oh, oh,  
> These voices won't leave me alone,
> 
> Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold.
> 
> \- Gasoline, Halsey

_Amongst the oppressive darkness there is a sharp glint of light as crisp white snow reflects the sun onto foreboding metal._

_Then it's crashing down towards him, the light moving across and illuminating the red and blue stripes and stars, the face behind it set in a grim and uncompromising mask._

_As the shield heads towards his chest (or is that his neck?) he has one terrified thought._

_I'm going to die._

…

Tony Stark jerked awake, choking on panic, hands flying up in a weak and futile attempt to defend himself from – _icy silver vibrianium, brute force, easily enough power to sever bone_ – struggling against the sheets he was tangled in that are suddenly far too constricting because Steve is going to kill him and the shield is coming and he needs to move or... or... 

Hesitation; a glint of entirely different metal in the pale early morning light, gold band warm and comforting and out of place with the snow and pain.

"Good morning Boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps quietly, the AI’s soft Irish lilt helping him break through the haze of fear, anger, helplessness. Around him Tony begins to recognise his surroundings, tinted glass windows, framed photos and canvas paintings, bookshelves packed to bursting point, his bedroom.

"Fri?" Tony gasps between shaky shallow breaths, hands coming down to grasp at the sheets, calming at the sensation of soft silk, vision beginning to focus on the deep green covers.

"The time is 6:18 am, weather is sunny with scattered clouds, and Ell's reactor is functioning at 100% capacity," the AI recites gently, seeming to understand that Tony has come back to himself enough to recognise where he is.

Beside him Lena, who despite being a deep sleeper had begun to stir at the sound of the electronic Irish voice, abruptly sat up at the mention of her reactor. F.R.I.D.A.Y only included the reactor in her morning spiel when Tony was on the verge of an attack.

Turning to face her shivering husband and shaking the final vestiges of sleep off, Elena Stark had to agree with F.R.I.D.A.Y's decision. Properly seeing him, sat with wide eyes and heaving chest, her slightly bleary gaze quickly meeting Tony’s terrified eyes, she knew it had been bad, really bad.

"Siberia?" she queried, a quick glance at his trembling hands, one of which had moved to clutch at his sternum in an attempt to control his racing heart. In reply he gave a sharp nod, not yet trusting his voice.

Gently extricating his hand from his chest she gently rested it beneath her reactor, taking deep measured breaths, waiting for Tony’s breathing to follow suit. Slowly, his panicked gulps calmed, Lena noted that it had taken longer than normal.

Making sure to move slowly so that Tony was warned she reached over the side of the bed to pick up the thick weighted blanket that lived there for moments like this, which still came far too often, and rearranged herself so that she could wrap it firmly around them both. She repositioned his hand so that it rested on the arc reactor knowing that Tony found the gentle hum reassuring.

Now firmly back in the present Tony marvelled once again at Lena's relaxed response.

No one else had ever known how to deal with his nightmares, not even Pepper, but Lena, she knew straight away that dreams of Siberia left him feeling a phantom cold, and that the pressure of the blanket reminded him of the weight of the suit. That being wrapped up like this made him feel safe, it was _intimacy_ , and it was _trust_. 

He would do the same for her in a heartbeat; he had done, whenever her demons rose in her dreams.

F.R.I.D.A.Y was slowly removing the tinting from the windows, allowing the early morning sun to seep through, giving the couple’s eyes time to adjust.

“Ella,” he murmured, moving to nuzzle into her neck. Lena's hair glinted in the light as it fell across her forehead; absently Tony's analytical mind noted that it was nearly the exact same shade as his wedding ring, the same ring that had helped bring him back from his panic attack.

"Better?" Lena asked softly, her fingers tracing soothing circles on his hands as they rested against the reactor.

"Yeah," and he did, at least in the sense his breathing had calmed and his heart no longer felt that it was about to jump out of his chest. The lingering fear, however, kept him on edge.

"Do you want to take your meds?" her voice was still soft with sleepiness but her eyes were sharp as they met his. Tony wavered. 

Although he had always respected Lena for giving him the choice, which was one of the things he loved about her, he still didn't like having to take them; it was irrational he knew because they really did help calm his anxiety but, in a handover from Howard's amazing parenting, Tony was always reluctant to admit he had faults.

Today of all days, however, he knew without a doubt that he needed them.

"I think, the triggers, yes," it wasn’t the most eloquent of statements and it wouldn't make sense to anyone else but Lena understood. Extracting herself from the bed she padded to the bathroom to pick up his prescriptions and a glass of water. Tony took the time to admire her, healthy, flawed, but somehow still perfect, subconsciously curling up further into the blanket to make up for the loss of her warmth.

He was glad to see how smooth her movements were now. Lena had been through a lot. 

She was a genius in her own right, holding several doctorates, but a train crash a few months before they had met had shattered her body beyond even the repair of her mutation and had forced her to find other ways of coping. It had been a stroke of medical achievement when Lena, with the help of another mutant Tony only knew as Logan, had successfully grafted a layer of protective metal onto her skeleton. Now her bones were practically unbreakable, but the extra weight had made daily life difficult until Tony had suggested an arc reactor to help power the joints. Lena’s reactor was much thinner and more efficient than his own had been. It was invasive, it had to be, but unlike himself, Lena’s didn’t interfere with her breathing and her healing factor made up for the rest.

If the government ever found out what Lena was capable of, not just physically as a result of a metal skeleton, but mentally as the result of the moderate empathy and telepathy she kept firmly under control, Tony knew they’d be in deep trouble. Happily, they had Charles Xavier on their side and so far he had done a rather good job of deflecting unwanted attention from Lena. Attention in general was unavoidable, but that’s what happened when you dated, then married a Stark.

By the time his wife returned the shivering had stopped and he had managed to extricate himself enough to reach his glasses, another subtle sign of his advancing age, slipping them on in anticipation of the headache about to hit. Fully focusing on her face Tony was briefly overwhelmed with the strength of _love – affection – adoration_ that swept through him.

Soft smile firmly in place Lena handed the glass and pills to him, carefully selected through many, many discussions with his therapist about their various side effects and effectiveness and trial and error. One for the anxiety, one mild muscle relaxant to help ease his breathing and the tension in his body, the last one a compatible pain killer for the headache that was announcing its appearance.

For a moment he looked that the unassuming medication in his palm then, resolutely ignoring the voice in his head proclaiming _don’t show weakness Stark men are made of iron_ Tony knocked all three back in one smooth practiced movement.

Lips against his forehead, fingers carding through his hair, and then soft fur rubbing against his hand as the small ragdoll kitten that had turned up one day and stubbornly refused to go away until they had given in and adopted him (granted it had helped that they were both cat people), made his morning appearance.

“Hey Jarvis,” he greeted softly stroking the midnight fur and being rewarded with a gentle purr as the bundle of trouble curled up against the warmth his body offered. 

The name had been Lena’s idea, but it was the kitten’s actions that had convinced him to use it. The ball of fluff had an uncanny ability for recognising when a flashback was imminent and resorting to using Tony as a climbing frame in search of attention, which more often than not had successfully pulled Tony out of his memories, and a habit of standing protectively in front of him and growling at unfamiliar people. Jarvis reminded him a lot of his old AI.

Feeling the drugs kicking in Tony decided it was time to face the day, doing his best of ignore what _the day_ entailed, determined to enjoy this last bit of piece before the group that somehow still had the audacity to call themselves Avengers arrived back in his life.

With a gentle kiss to his wife, he slipped out of bed and headed over to the cot in the corner to finish the morning greetings.

Little Maria Stark had, thankfully, gotten the hang of sleeping through the night pretty quickly. She was already far too bright for her age and had a mischievous twinkle in her deep brown eyes that Tony knew she had gotten from him. The golden hair and smile was all Lena, as was her ability to calm him without thinking.

Blinking sleepily up at her father, Tony softly reached down to cradle his daughter in his arms lifting her to rest protectively against his chest, revelling in her easy grins and her babble and her curious hands that tried to grab hold of the salt and pepper goatee.

His daughter.

It still hadn’t really sunk in and he had known from the beginning that he was going be terribly overprotective of her, but she was a Stark, and he’d make sure that he was a better father than his own had been. Starks were tough yes, they had to be, but he was determined that Maris was going to grow up understanding that being tough didn’t mean you couldn’t be weak sometimes. It had taken Tony 40 years, marriage, and therapy to realise that he could be vulnerable without being hurt, but Maria, well, she was going to know that crying, and hurting, and making mistakes, would not make him love her any less. His love for her was unconditional.

He was under no delusion that he was fixed, he would have severe trust issues for the rest of his life, he would likely suffer from P.T.S.D and anxiety, would need to take medication for them, for the rest of his life. But as he gazed around at his dysfunctional family a small part of him was proud of the life he had managed to rebuild. The past five years had changed him, perhaps irreversibly, but he was beginning to see that change wasn’t necessarily bad.

Phoenix from the metaphorical ashes and all that.

It was just a shame that today was _that day_. But at least he’d face it with Lena, Rhodey and F.R.I.D.A.Y by his side, Maria being watched over by Vision, and little Jarvis fluffed up and growling threateningly between him and Steve Rogers.

And he’d be damned if the mental image didn’t make him chuckle.


	2. Chapter 2

With a tug that bordered on aggressive Tony adjusted the knot of his tie in the mirror, doing his best to avoid actually meeting his own eye because he was afraid of what he would see there.

_Fear – hope – pain – anger – love._

The quinjet with the ‘Avengers’ from Wakanda was arriving in ten minutes.

He thinks he might be sick. 

Something brushes against his leg. He jumps, reflexively choking down the panic that rises with the unexpected touch, heart rate rising uncomfortably for a moment, looking down to meet wide green eyes. Jarvis continues to wrap himself around Tony’s ankles, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he had caused this particular moment of panic, the movement distracting Tony from his anxiety about the day. Slowly he swallows down the rising nausea.

“Hey buddy, you ready for this?” Jarvis chirps in response and grants Tony a particularly firm head-butt. Tony is just thankful that he chose to wear a dark suit; Jarvis’s fur won’t show up much against the deep grey material, so he will at least maintain some modicum of respectability. 

Swallowing Tony lifts his head and throws a critical eye over his appearance one final time. Hair neat, goatee trimmed, glasses clean, watch gauntlet on. He is caught by the sudden realisation that he has aged more in the last five years than he had in the ten before that. He still looks attractive as hell, don’t get him wrong, but he looks mature now, settled. It surprises him how much it suits him.

Time to get this show on the road.

One last check in on Maria, safely curled in Vision’s arms, he heads to the meeting room, Jarvis following loyally in his footsteps, spotting his wife waiting with Natasha by the door. Natasha leans down to greet Jarvis, who had finally warily accepted her, much as Tony himself had down when the spy had reappeared in the tower, actually _apologised_ for betraying him, pledged to protect him should it be needed, and proceeded to prove it over a period of three years.

“Dr. Stark,” Natasha greets gently. They had agreed to stick to titles today. Lena had acquiesced to being Mrs. Stark for the day to avoid confusion, although Tony partly suspected this was for his own benefit, the title gave him a level of respect and standing that he suspected he would need today.

It’s taken him five years to get to this point, to gather evidence against Ross and have him arrested and imprisoned, _for Bruce_ , to negotiate and amend the Accords until T’Challa felt Steve had reached a point where he might be willing to help negotiations, slipping data on BARF to T’Challa for Barnes, who he had long forgiven because he knew what it felt like to have someone mess with your head. The Winter Soldier was not Bucky Barnes.

Despite being in touch with T’Challa on a regular basis, both as a fellow team member for the Avengers and as a scientific partner, Tony didn’t really know how much the old team knew about what he had done to get them back and how he had changed.

He wondered if they’d be surprised to see his wedding ring. Or show sympathy at the lines of stress, the struggle that it took to force a smile onto his face. 

He wondered if they’d mock him, punch him, try to kill him.

They had hurt him, they had betrayed him, they had been his _friends_.

“Tutto bene?” fingers wrapped around his, which he suddenly noticed were shaking again, medication clearly not enough to settle his nerves today. Lena’s eyes vibrated with restrained concern and understanding. He felt her mind brush against his own briefly, gently. He latched onto the calm oasis of her presence until he no longer felt like he was going to shake apart, embraced the comfort of hearing his mother tongue.

“Sì,” Tony was glad to find his voice was steady, “andiamo.”

"Boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted them, "the quinjet has landed."

*

Steve Rogers was beginning to wonder if he was going to need to tell the team to lay off Tony. They may not have agreed on the Accords five years age, in rather spectacular fashion at that, but five years had given Steve time to mellow, to reflect on why Tony had never called. So when T'Challa had once again presented his own signed copy of the Accords to him two weeks ago and asked him for suggestions on improvements Steve's natural curiosity had finally overwhelmed his animosity and he'd found himself reading through them properly for the first time, being constantly surprised by the content.

Whether he agreed with government accountability or not, he was beginning to realise that he should have at least _read_ the Accords before throwing them in Tony’s face, maybe if they had the conflict would not have come to blows.

Intrigued, Steve had conducted a bit of further research and had found out what Tony had been up to, had realised that his apparent 'sucking up' to the officials they had seen on the TV before they had stopped watching it (mainly out of disgust for said ‘sucking up’) had been part of a long game. He'd also begun to suspect that the technology helping Bucky may have had a Stark-shaped origin as well, although he couldn't prove it.

His anger at the genius had mellowed and although he had never quite gotten over the brutality of the attack on Bucky in Siberia he was beginning to see a future where they could be a team again.

It only occurred to him now, five minutes out from what had once been the Avengers Tower that he should have perhaps shared that knowledge with the others. Clint and Wanda had had plenty of time to stew in bitterness and Scott Lang had inherited the Pym dislike of all things Stark. Bucky it seemed was mostly ambivalent if a little apprehensive and Sam, well Sam usually followed where Steve led so he wasn't really worried about him.

With a gentleness that defied its design the quinjet landed at the tower, the ramp lowering as it did so and Steve wasn't sure if he was upset or not when he discovered it was T'Challa and Natasha that made up the welcoming committee, no Tony in sight.

"Greeting Captain, Avengers," T'Challa began, reaching out to shake Steve's hand as the team descended the ramp, "it is good to see you back in New York."

"I wonder who's fault that was," Steve's enhanced hearing caught Clint's bitter mumble. He debated pulling him aside to have a word but decided against it, Clint was capable of behaving professionally after all. Although, he considered as he heard a few mumbles of agreement, perhaps mentioning Tony’s role in securing the safety of the archer’s family would have been a good idea.

"Your highness," Steve responded, "it's good to be home."

Natasha offered him a nod before gesturing for them to follow, leading them down both familiar and at the same time unfamiliar hallways.

"Dr. Stark is waiting in the meeting room," the Widow explained.

"Oh so he's a doctor now?" Scott grumbled from the back of the group. 

Steve tensed for a number of reasons. Tony had always been a doctor, he knew the inventor held several doctorates, but before now he had never used the title. The formality made Steve uneasy, but he also understood that it brought a level of professional expectation to the meeting which he was beginning to realise his team needed. He really should have spoken to them, but it was too late now because they had clearly reached the meeting room.

Through frosted windows he could make out two figures waiting at the table, then at Natasha’s prompting he walked through the doors and almost did a double-take. 

In all his research he had never actually seen any images of Tony since a few months post-Siberia; they had avoided news about the genius on the TV. 

He barely recognised the man now standing at the head of the table.

Tony had aged, that much was immediately obvious, the glasses on his face no longer a fashion statement but a medical necessity, the grey in his hair so clearly visible. The way he held himself was different too, less proud and more weary, like a man who meant business. Although underneath the perfectly tailored suit (no change there) he could still see hints of a muscular form.

Mentally shaking himself out of his haze he caught Tony’s cautious eyes and resolved to make it clear he wasn’t here to fight. But before he could take more than two steps towards the inventor, the small black ball of fluff that he had noticed curled up on the table top suddenly fixed its gaze on him. In a move so fast Steve is sure he would have missed if had he blinked the creature, which he now realised was barely more than a kitten, had fluffed up to twice it’s normal size, crouched low in front of Tony and, yes, was growling at him.

It was more adorable than intimidating.

It is Tony’s laugh a moment later that breaks the unusual stalemate. Pure and unrestrained laughter, the engineer wipes tears from his eyes, showing vulnerability in front of Steve in a way he never would have done before, as one hand comes down to stroke the kitten’s head.

“It’s ok Jarvis,” Tony manages between chuckles, “you can stand down.”

The kitten looks back at Tony and after a moment begins to slowly deflate, curling back up in his spot in front of Tony’s chair but continuing to glare at Steve, daring him to hurt the man he has chosen to protect.

"Captain," Tony spoke, voice thankfully firm, moving to greet him as the rest of the team filed in, clearly Natasha had decided the hostilities were over.

"Dr. Stark," Steve returned the formality in kind, offering a respectful nod as he shook hands with a man he hadn't spoken to in five years.

Tony offered Steve the chair immediately on his left with a sweeping gesture, and it was then that he noticed the strange woman that had already claimed the seat to Tony's right. Piercing teal eyes evaluated him to the extent that he felt she could read his soul, it was disconcerting and uncomfortable but after a moment her gaze softened and he couldn't help but think that he had passed some kind of test.

The rest of Tony’s motley group piled in after Steve’s, T'Challa, Natasha, and Rhodes settling opposite them, Vision conspicuous in his absence. Steve flinched minutely at spotting the stiff way Rhodes moved, the high-tech braces (undoubtedly Tony's work) on his legs.

Steve also did his best not to notice the subtle tremble that had taken hold of Tony's hands when Bucky and the team slid into their seats. He noticed that Tony and Bucky shared a look and nod of acknowledgement and relaxed slightly, glad that nothing was going to immediately kick off on that front.

He did, however, notice the way the trembling stopped and Tony relaxed when the woman in the seat next to him leaned over the whisper something in his ear. Nodding, Tony made himself comfortable in his chair, glanced around at the gathered people. 

There was only one unknown face in the room, teal gaze sharply assessing the group from Wakanda. Slightly uncomfortable with having a stranger involved, Steve was about to ask for an introduction but Tony beat him to it, taking a deep, calming breath before motioning toward the woman.

"Allow me to introduce Elena," Tony proclaimed, a hint of familiar pride returning to his voice along with something else that Steve couldn't place. After a moment of silence Tony dropped the bombshell, "my wife."

The reaction was instantaneous, sounds of shock and surprise erupted from his side of the table, in response to which the other seemed to almost close ranks around the Starks. Steve had frozen in disbelief, of all the things he had imagined, that Tony had married had been one option he hadn't considered. 

Immediately he looked to Tony's left hand and wondering how he had missed the plain gold band that now rested on his ring finger. It was not as if Tony had been hiding it.

With an eyebrow raised in amusement Tony waited whilst the room settled, doing his best to ignore glares and suspicious looks being sent their way, confident that his wife could more than handle any issues. Leaning his elbows on the table, he flipped open the folder that Jarvis was curled in front of and looked around at the gathering, eyes finally locking with Steve’s, nodding in approval at whatever he saw there. When he spoke his voice was full of confidence and authority in a way it had never been before.

“Well, now that the introductions are over, shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian translations:
> 
> “Tutto bene?” - Are you alright / Are you ok?
> 
> “Sì” - Yes
> 
> “Andiamo” - Let's go


End file.
